


Too Much

by missvega



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sloppy Makeouts, Smut, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, benverly is implied here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 11:37:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21161033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missvega/pseuds/missvega
Summary: Richie and Stan can't get enough of each other





	Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> The boys(and the rest of the losers) are 17/18 years old.
> 
> Stan and Richie have an established relationship, but they haven't told the Losers Club, so they kind of sneak around.

Richie smashed their lips together again and everything was too much, but still not enough. Stan was intoxicated by him. The taste of cigarette smoke on his skin, the deafening shitty music that shook the entire house, the burn of cheap booze on his mouth, his warm hands sliding up Stan’s stomach. Stan wanted more. _ Needed _more.

Richie moved his way down Stan’s mouth and jaw, leaving sloppy kisses and gentle nips until he got to his neck. One of the hands he placed under Stan’s shirt slipped under the waistband of his jeans. He slowly began palming the other boy’s growing erection.

“Rich,” Stan breathed out and Richie moaned against his neck in response. “What if someone hears us?” Though he couldn’t really find it in him to care at this point. He wanted this more than he dared to admit.

“Let them.” When Stan didn’t say anything, Richie lifted his head, meeting his gaze and pulled his hand out of his pants, letting it rest against Stan’s stomach. “Look, no one is gonna hear us over this music. And they were too busy doing shots to notice us sneak off.” Richie leaned forward, his voice a rough whisper in Stan’s ear. “So shut up and fuck me.”

A low moan escaped Stan’s mouth, imagining the way Richie’s voice always faltered when Stan would thrust inside him. The way his words became more unfiltered and raw when Stan held onto his hips with a bruising grip. And then, he was brought back to reality. Brought back to Richie in front of him, only a few inches in between them. Brought back to the fact that their best friends were only a hallway away and would _ definitely _hear them.

“I’m not gonna fuck you in a closet, you idiot.”

“You’re so _ romantic _, Stanley! Are you going to buy me dinner first? Take me home and make sweet, sweet love to me all night?” Stan rolled his eyes.

“Just shut up.” Stan brought their mouths together, closing the distance again. He bit a little harder than he meant to on Richie’s bottom lip, pulling on it slightly, eliciting a hungry moan from the other boy.

“I love it when you play rough, Stanny boy,” Richie said against Stan’s mouth.

“Do you want me to stop?” Both of them knew the threat was empty -- they were both too desperate for this -- but Richie whined nonetheless. “Then stop talking.”

Stan kissed his way down Richie’s neck, stopping every once in a while to bite at the skin. He could feel Richie’s dick against his thigh and he started grinding against it, loving the way Richie’s breath hitched. He moved his hands in between them and began working on Richie’s jeans, struggling to get them down.

“You and your stupid skinny jeans,” Stan muttered and cursed under his breath. Richie stifled a laugh.

“Let me help you, babe.” Richie’s hands grazed against Stan’s as he slid his jeans down. He grabbed one of Stan’s hands, guiding it back to its place against Richie’s hips, letting Stan move it from there. His hand slowly roamed around Richie’s body, his cold fingers leaving icy trails that sent shivers down Richie’s spine.

Stan hooked his fingers under Richie’s underwear, glancing up to make sure Richie was okay with everything. Richie nodded slightly, his mouth agape and eyes wide in anticipation. Stan leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth, before pulling Richie’s boxers down.

He wrapped his hand around Richie’s cock, slowly stroking it, a smirk growing on Stan’s face as he moaned under his touch. Richie grabbed a fistful of curls on the back of Stan’s head, pulling him forward, lips crashing against each other. He couldn’t get enough of Stan.

Stan continued working at a tantalizing slow pace, wanting to commit each and every little sound Richie made to memory. Richie swiped his tongue along Stan’s lips, and Stan opened his mouth in response. Richie explored the inside of his mouth, his movements too messy, too fast, too _ hungry _. But it didn’t matter; they were together. Richie tried to thrust forward, desperate for more friction, but Stan stilled his movements.

“Stan, p-” His breath was hot against Stan’s neck. “_ Please _.”

“So needy, Tozier.” Stan whispered next to Richie’s ear, before he kissed his way along his jaw and neck, slowly moving further and further down. He knelt on the ground in front of Richie and smiled to himself as he heard Richie mumble a soft “_ fuck _” under his breath.

Stan licked his lips, before taking the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and gently sucking. He grabbed onto the base of Richie’s cock, working on a steady rhythm with his hand and mouth. He slowly took more and more of Richie into his mouth, adjusting what he did based off of Richie’s reactions.

“_Hoooly shit _,” Stan moaned around his cock, lifting his gaze up to meet Richie’s eyes. His face was flushed, emphasising his freckles, and his glasses were more lopsided than usual. They don’t get in the way as much as his old pair of glasses, but Richie doesn’t like taking them off if he doesn’t have to. Stan took the entirety of Richie’s length in his mouth, feeling his head hit the back of his throat. He stopped his movements, keeping Richie there, and waited. It took a moment for Richie’s brain to catch up.

“Are you-? You sure?” Stan nodded as much as he could. Richie started thrusting, shallow and slow, trying to stay in control. He locked eyes with Stan, still hesitant to do anything that may hurt him, but the hunger in Stan’s expression sent him over the edge. Richie reached down to grab onto Stan’s curls, holding his head in place as he increased his pace. He was enthralled by Stan’s face, his lips swollen from kissing and stretched around his dick, his eyes tearing up, his hair an absolute mess. It was too much for Richie to stay composed. “S-stan-”

His hips twitched forward as he came, his grip on Stan’s hair tightening, a stream of profanities escaping his lips. Richie held him there while he rode out his high, trying to stay grounded in reality. Stan lightly slapped the inside of Richie’s thigh and Richie let go of his hair, mumbling a weak apology. 

Stan turned his head to the side and coughed a few times, still kneeling on the floor, streaks of tears ran across his cheeks. “You could’ve at least warned me, asshole.”

“I tried!” Stan stood up, wiping off any dust or specks that got on his knees. “Have you been practicing? Do I have competition? Because _ holy shit _, Stan.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” A smile danced across Stan’s lips.

“If it gets me more of that, then yes.” Stan rolled his eyes again, but a small chuckle left his mouth.

“You literally jizzed down my throat, why would I do that again?” They both knew he would do it again.

“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t love that.” That earned Richie a sharp pinch on his arm. “Because we can finish this,” Richie gestured to the space in between them. “And I’ll let you shoot your load wherever you want,” He held up his hand. “Scout’s Honor.”

“Gross. Don’t say that.” Richie laughed as he pulled his jeans back up.

“C’mon, my parents won’t be home tonight.” He sing-songed as he wriggled his hips for emphasis.

“How are we going to leave? ‘Oh sorry guys, we’re going to Richie’s house to fuck!’ and just walk out the front door?”

“Nah, Ben always keeps his bedroom window unlocked. Bev told me.” Richie didn’t answer Stan’s quizzical look. “If anyone asks, which I doubt they will, I’ll say I threw up and wanted to go home and you -- being the _ gentleman _you are, Staniel -- took me there. Easy peasy. No need to mention fucking.” He waved his hand nonchalantly to dismiss Stan’s concerns before a grin spread across his face and he wiggled his eyebrows. “Unless you want to invite them?” 

“Beep beep, Rich.” His laugh filled the air and Stan couldn’t help but smile back. Richie grabbed Stan’s hand and opened the closet door, leading him towards Ben’s room.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still pretty new at all of this so please let me know what you think!
> 
> follow me on tumblr (@kespbrek)! <3


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